


Can I Have This Dance?

by lazily_astray



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, F/M, M/M, School Dances, Teenlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:41:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1413757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazily_astray/pseuds/lazily_astray
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mummy Holmes will organise nothing less than an extravagant school dance for the year's end, And Mycroft is persistent that Sherlock should go. How the hell is she going to find company, let alone a date?<br/>Meanwhile John Watson just lost his own date...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a thing I've been writing to feel productive. Yes. It wasn't supposed to be this long, but I'm too lazy to write a short one. I'll definitely write something in the same AU again.  
> All constructive criticism is welcome!

"Ugh, do shut _up_."

"Sherlock, I'm tired of your attitude. You know it's in the best interest if you just-"

"'Do as I tell you. I'm Mycrroft and I'm so verry much better than you.'" Sherlock spoke deeply, deliberately rolling the 'r's. 

"I don't sound like that."

"Oh! My apologies, _you're_ the expert on how you sound, after all. Because all you like is hearing yourself talk."

"It wouldn't kill you to-"

"It will."

"Oh for christ's sake Sherlock, listen!" 

Sherlock huffed and plopped down into her sofa chair, sitting loose in it. It ticked her off when Mycroft so much as stepped inside her room. Could the man not read her very specific sign, "No one of unworthy IQ's allowed (everyone)"? She knew Mycroft didn't really fit that description, which ticked her off even more.

Mycroft sat on the edge of her bed. The elder brother didn't enjoy yelling at her like that, but christ, the teenager was being especially difficult right then. When was she bloody not? 

"You have to attend the dance, Sherlock." She opened her mouth, but Mycroft continued, "I know you don't want to, you've made it extremely clear. But do it for mummy."

"What's she getting out of it anyway?"

"She's the principal, Sherlock. Her own daughter not attending wouldn't be accounted for well."

"Oh. Of course. It's not about me at all."

"I'm glad you realise that."

"I'm the one being forced to spend hours in a room full of absolutely atrocious people imbecilely judging each other on how 'pretty', well, skinny they look, with ear-bleeding awful music, with no alcohol in the punch to bear through with it all. And _wear a bloody dress_.  But _no_ , it's not about me. It's never about me. It's mummy and her reputation and you always being such a _pet_."

Sherlock got up, straightened her coat, and as she was before, made a turn to leave.

"You're worried you won't find a date."

Sherlock stopped. She gave him a deathly glare. Mycroft only rose his pretentious eyebrow at that. 

She sat back down but refused to look at him, or look interested.

"I can help out with that."

"By what? Offering prize money to whomever asks me out for a date?"

"Heavens no. We'd have to offer so much we'd go bankrupt." It wasn't meant to be an exaggeration. "I'm saying that I can advice you on trivial matters such as being a nicer person-"

"Stop right there. No."

"Not indefinitely, of course. Just enough to get a date."

"No."

"Okay. At least to acquaint someone?"

"You're right..." Mycroft sat up, "These are trivial matters. There's no need for any of this." 

Sherlock once again got up to head for the door. Mycroft lost his patience and got up after her.

"I don't care Sherlock, you're _going_.  I had to, and so do you. I'll be your company if I have to."

"You wouldn't..."

"I'll make you slow dance with me, Sherlock. I'll do it." This sent a gagging sensation back the both of their throats, but Mycroft had to stand strong.

"I'll find a bloody acquaintance for god sake!" She slammed the door on her way out. Mycroft stood behind, grinning in his victory.

"And get the hell out of my room!" She echoed from the stairs.

 

***

 

Sherlock spent the day outside on a park bench in the cold. The urge to burn the house down with Mycroft tied up inside was too strong to go back. She went through her phone's contacts in the hopes of finding anyone tolerable at all. There weren't many contacts, unfortunately. 

She called Molly. She was a friendly, sweet person, heaven knows why. But not dull. Sat down at lunch with her occasionally. There's no way she'd have a date, so she'd be free for Sherlock. 

"Molly, would you like to accompany me to the dance? I just need to show my face for mummy and then I'll leave."

"Oh, I'd love to Sherlock..."

"Splendid."

"Um, but I'm going with a date."

"Date?" Sherlock made no effort to hide her utter surprise. She began piecing together moments she saw Molly for the past few weeks and tried gathering any clue as to who stole her Molly.

"Sherlock? Hello?"

"Is it Anderson? He's always ogling you. But then he's always ogling everyone, that pervert. It could be-"

"It's someone I met at my internship, Jim. He's really nice." Molly's glee could be heard seeping through the phone, "We both like cats, and Jim's-"

Sherlock hung up. Groaned.

Great. Who else was left?

She scrolled up and down and up and down through her contact list, restless. She only liked Molly so far. 

She thought hard. She tried entering her mind to find a way to poison Mycroft or something. Just as she was going to resort to swearing out loud, a random passerby came and sat beside her, panting. She eyed him.

"Thinking. Find another bench."

The other person turned to her, raised his eyebrows. He hadn't even said anything.

"I'm sorry?"

"Not forgiven till you're gone."

_ Who the hell does she think she is? _

"I've just run a long way, and I really need to sit down." _Why am I explaining myself?_ "You don't own the bench."

"I'm currently going over ways to poison my brother." 

The person jerked his head toward her, caught off guard, and really looked at her. _What in the hell?_ The person should now freak out and leave her be. Sherlock expected it. 

"I'm going over ways to poison a sibling myself. What a coincidence!" 

That wasn't the expected bit.

Sherlock was intrigued. He'd been running, but not to exercise. He was running from somewhere, away from somewhere. He'd been running harder than he needed to, mostly to let out steam. Angry at his sibling. He'd left in a hurry, as he was wearing his jumper inside-out, a ridiculous one too. Could be a Christmas present. But too un-Christmassy to be one...  

And familiar. Sherlock had seen that jumper somewhere before. A silly jumper such as that is a bit difficult to eliminate from one's mind.

"Watson. You're John Watson." 

There it was going to come, this person's utter bafflement. Sherlock had to admit she liked it when people couldn't understand how she just knows. 

"Of course I'm John Watson. We're in chemistry together. Sherlock Holmes, right? I expected you'd know my name by now..."

No no no. That's not the correct way to react. Why is this person being so difficult? He should have left five minutes ago. 

"I wouldn't have later either, but a jumper like that is hard to forget. Even if I tried. And I must have, very hard."

"It's a Christmas present."

"No it's not."

John crossed his arms around his jumper, conscious. 

"How would you know..."

There it was. The balance of the universe was restored.

"Because your girlfriend gave it to you just a couple of months ago. Someone starting with an 'S'." She squinted, "Sorry, ex-girlfriend."

"We're not broken up-"

"You were going to breakup with her anyway."

"I can't- This just happened! How the hell did you know?"

Sherlock grinned to herself. John cocked his head to ask a more important question, "How much do you know?"

Sherlock relaxed. "Just that you walked in on your brother and your girlfriend. Together, I'm afraid. A lot of other stuff too, like you're afraid of failing chemistry, you're thinking about a career in medicine, you're a bit of an artist but not a great one, a relative's serving in Afghanistan, etcetera etcetera. But that's not of any relevance."

"That was..." John trailed off.

"So, was it all correct?"

John took a moment to snap back. "Um, Harry's my sister, not brother."

"Oh. But didn't your sibling steal your... Oh." Sherlock couldn't help but grin. And soon she was giggling. 

"This is a really sensitive issue to me, okay. Could you stop grinning like an idiot?"  

"John Watson, a massive contributor to the LGBTQ society." 

"Sacrificing his own date to the dance for the greater good." He chuckled and then gave a wistful sigh.

"The dance is actually the precise reason why I want to poison my own brother."

"He won't let you go?"

"He's _ making _me go."

"How unthoughtful." 

In the following silence, Sherlock's phone buzzed. She didn't seem to notice.

"Your phone's buzzing. I think it has been for a while."

"It was supposed to be on silent, but this bloody phone won't switch off vibrating." So she was trying not to notice.

It wouldn't stop buzzing. She jolted it out of her coat and picked the damn phone up.

" _What?_... Being a predator, hunting for a date... So what if it's seven? I'll come when I want to." She hung up. She got up and bade John a brief farewell.

"So you're just giving in to your brother, going home?"

"My home's that way." She pointed in the direction she was was moving away from.

 

***

 

Three days later, a Saturday, and Mycroft hadn't mentioned anything about the dance. Not since the day he mentioned it. Unfortunately, it wasn't because he forgot. Sherlock knew he'd actually dress up to be her company at the last moment if she wouldn't sort everything out herself. 

She lay sprawled across the living room sofa in the empty house, still in her pyjamas. It's a weekend. No need of changing. 

She was a person capable of figuring out who put a frog's legs in the teacher's pen stand just by the way they'd been placed, but she couldn't rack her brain to figure out who'd be so vain as to be her company.

She scrolled around her phone's contacts again. She came across Lestrade. No first name, just 'Lestrade'. 

 _Hm_ , she thought, _what about him?_ _It would sure send Mycroft running up the walls._ Lestrade goes to the same uni as Mycroft and came home a lot. Mycroft blindly admires him. His pupils are blown, he grins like an idiot far too much, and talks a little less to actually listen to Lestrade. He's got such a crush on him it's embarrassing. 

Sherlock dissed the idea as soon as she realised Mycroft would definitely tag along to chaperone them. In fact, he would love to come, since he never got the chance to ask Lestrade to with him, as friends, at his own year's dance. And besides, she knew she'd call Lestrade anything besides his first name, even after all this time. That would be awkward, as some would suggest. Sherlock just never got around to storing his proper name in her mind palace.  

Her mind let in room to different ways to sabotage Mycroft in someway or the other again. Her plan B. 

She was soon narrowing down how she would incorporate hair dye into Mycroft's hair gel, but her phone buzzed. For a person with such little contacts, her phone sure bothered her a lot. She'd get ready to throw it down a lake, but she liked playing on apps with terrible glitches. Gave her a challenge.

 

_I never asked, but how did you know?_

 

Unknown number. Obviously Watson.

_What did you tell Molly to get my phone number? -SH_

 

_Told her we're doing a chemistry project together._

 

_Ignorant. She's in chemistry as well. And there aren't any assignments left. -SH_

 

_It seemed better than basically telling her "My sister stole my girlfriend from me."_

 

_Which would further mean you're incompetent enough. -SH_

 

_Now what's that supposed to mean? Are you saying it's my fault?_

 

_Hilarity doesn't transverse well via text. -SH_

 

_You're soulless._

 

_Souls are spiritual energies embodying a living being. Absolute tripe. Of course I'm soulless; stop wasting text on pointing out the obvious. -SH_

 

_...Why so anyway? -SH_

 

_If you mean it's something to do with your former girlfriend, I don't even have the energy to argue. -SH_

 

_Of course it's to do with that! Normal people would sympathise with my agony. I don't want to sound like a heroine been wronged, but goddamn I am!_

 

_well, de wrd 'norml' doesnt go wll wid my persona, dont u thnk? -sh_

 

_What does then? Bizarre? Eccentric? Freak? And why are you typing like that?_

 

_As I said, I didn't have the energy. But as it turns out, 'chat' language is much more exhausting. Are you friends with Sally Donovan? -SH_

 

_I wouldn't call it a friendship. Converse a bit. But why?_

 

_She uses the term 'freak' over the usually preferred 'psychopath'. -SH_

 

_Psychopath? That's a heavy term..._

 

_This school is full of erroneous people, Watson. I'm a highly functioning sociopath for christ's sake. -SH_

 

Sherlock didn't receive any other text after that. _Subject successfully scared off_.  She went back to devising a "surprise" for Mycroft Holmes. 


	2. Chapter 2

Sherlock returned home from school exhausted and in a bad mood. Why did the english teacher have to be so bloody intent upon the obviously wrong usage of 'fishes'? Would've saved everyone the period. 

It didn't help when she walked in on her room full of poofy, ugly dresses, and a smug Mycroft seated beside them. 

"Now, the fuchsia would drain you, but the alabaster would camouflage into your skin. What about baby blue for my baby sister?"

Sherlock didn't even have to think before throwing her backpack aiming at his skull.

Skilfully and habitually, Mycroft dodged the cannonball-like bag and continued, "Be sure not to pick anything that'll clash with my suit."

Sherlock picked up and threw the lot of dresses on her study table one by one to the ground. 

"Don't worry, brother. You and your hideous suit are most definitely not coming with me."

"The dance is exactly a week away, and you haven't found anyone yet."

"You wouldn't know that."

"Do you honestly doubt that?"

She pushed him off her bed and pushed him staggering towards the door. 

"But I would have loved to help you pick out a dress!"

She slammed the door shut.

She could hear his smugness grow fainter as he left. _Oh, he's enjoying this._

She looked for her lighter.

 

***

 

"Sherlock! Wait up!"

Sherlock had absolutely no intention to. She kept walking, stroking her sore neck. It was lunch.

A hand cautiously tapped her shoulder. She had to acknowledge the voice now.

"Watson?"

"John, yes." 

 _Hadn't I scared you off?_ They kept walking.

"So, I've been doing some research," he glanced at some papers in his hand, "You're right. The people here are quite the idiots." Sherlock looked at him. This person never ceased to surprise. 

"Obvious as broad daylight, but why would you say that?"

"Well, in brief, you haven't killed anyone in a cold and twisted manner yet. And you're not an actual threat to anyone's life around here." Sherlock didn't respond to that. "Um, I mean, as far as I've come to know you..." He gave an uncomfortable laugh. He seemed scared but... fascinated.

"You researched the differences between psychopathy and sociopathy?"

"What can I say, you set the curiosity in me aflame. This topic's been the centre of my attention for the past few days, really. Quite intriguing."

"I can only presume breaking up has given you far too much time to yourself." 

"Should've learnt crocheting instead. Hey, where are we going? The cafeteria's that way."

This particular corridor Sherlock had led John to was deserted. She looked around with caution and entered a room. John let himself in after her.

"The chemistry lab, Watson. Experiments. You're free to leave for lunch."

Seemed more like a command than a suggestion.

"Alright. You still owe me an explanation, though, Sherlock." 

He was still dwelling on that?

 

***

 

"How's John?"

"Who?"

"John Watson!" 

"Oh, yes." Sherlock really needed to start registering people's first names. "Seems like you two are getting along." One could feel the smile in Molly's tone.

"Why did you give him my phone number?" Molly's smile drooped. Sherlock couldn't get over the fact that Molly gave out her phone number. Molly was supposed to be loyal. She would need to reassess her.

"He said he had an assignment with you, though the term's almost ended... It seemed like he liked you though -he asked for your number!- and the dance is coming up so I thought..."

"There's no need for your assumptions, Molly." Sherlock walked ahead of the freshly put out girl. She stopped for one last thought, "He's not dull, I'll give you that." 

 

***

 

"A sandwich, one iced tea, and earl grey tea." The waitress placed the items on their table and left with a smile. Probably customary. John insisted Sherlock to order something more than just tea, up until the last moment of ordering, but she couldn't be argued with. 

"Would you like half of my sandwich?" He angled his plate towards her.

Sherlock gave an exasperated sigh. "Never mind." He dug in.

"Why are you obsessed with it?"

"I'm more obsessed with tea than I am with sandwiches, to be fair."

"No, I mean about how I deduced you." 

John half choked on his sandwich.

"Oh no no no Sherlock, I haven't been 'seduced', heavens no! Not that I wouldn't be, you are quite lovely- I mean, I'm not- This isn't a date. I didn't text you for a date. I just wanted to know how you deduced- Oh."

Sherlock shook her head and broke into chuckles. Flustered, he joined her. 

"So, how did you figure all that out?"

Sherlock took a depth breath. John clenched every muscle. 

"You were furious, judged by your exhaustion after an unnecessarily strong jog around the park. You said you would like to poison your sister, so it was her doing something that infuriated you. Your jumper was inside out which means you left in a hurry. It's barely Christmas for it to be a christmas gift, but you defended it anyway because it was given by someone you care for, most likely your girlfriend, which is why you wear it a lot. You were wearing that jumper because she was on your mind, or it was lying around because she was home. Either way, it makes sense how it's concluded that the infuriating deed your sister was doing was in fact your girlfriend."

John blinked. 

"That's... that's it?" Sherlock raised her eyebrow. "You made it sound so obvious." 

Sherlock sipped her tea, "That's because it was."

"That was bloody amazing." Sherlock looked up at him to make sure it wasn't sarcasm. It wasn't. John truly did look astonished. Awed.

"Is it that it never occurred to you, or you're better than the rest to not have asked me to 'piss off'?"

John grinned. "I'm better. That's what's ought to be obvious." He had some iced tea and sighed. "Wish that kept me my date to the dance."

"You're worried more about the humiliation you'll have to face if you do show up, aren't you?" John shrugged.

"That's why I can't go anymore. At least not alone."

"Did you actually _want_ to go?"

John looked at the sandwich. 

"I think so, yeah. I don't hate dancing." He could feel Sherlock's disapproval beaming at him. "It's the last event of this form, everyone would be there. It would suck to be left out."

"Sentiment." She rolled her eyes. She looked down at herself for feeling it too now, for him, but this proved to be the answer. 

 

***

 

"Did John Watson ask you to the dance yet?"

Sherlock was minding her own business. All she was doing was looking for some sodium bicarbonate for the chemicals she'd nicked from the lab that day. But Mycroft had to pop up from the dark. 

"Mycroft!" Her brother could be the darkest mastermind of all Sherlock knew, including herself. He had connections and he knew everything. The bastard probably even knew the answer to his question, but he liked to be entertained every now and then.

"Well? I'm waiting."

"This doesn't concern you."

"It concerns the integrity of my suits, Sherlock. The dance is tomorrow and I need to know."

"Your suits are safe from clashing with my dresses. Indefinitely." _Of course they are. The dresses are all in hell, burnt. Though I suppose your suits would be glad to join them..._

"Oh, I know. But do I need to clear my day to accompany you or not?"

"Why, was Gavin coming over for a date?"

An irritable eyebrow shot up. "Greg." He straightened his tie, "Not a date," he sounded wistful, "but yes, I am a very busy man."

Mycroft having plans for that night meant a lot. He actually did have faith in her.

"You're free to court Lestrade tomorrow. I do now have a-"

"Date?" 

" _Companion_. " 

"Sure, let's call him that."

"That's what he is." Sherlock cleared her throat, "He wanted to go but couldn't because of that ex-girlfriend of his-"

"Sarah Sawyer."

"Correct. And I needed to go. Only seemed reasonable."

"John seems quite plain. But we all know he isn't quite so..." he flashed a glance at her cellphone on the counter, "Perhaps, just perhaps you won't have a very dull time tomorrow."

He turned to let her be.

"Brother, I hide the cellphone in my bra in school."

Mycroft dropped his cup.

 

***

 

_What will you be wearing tonight? -JW_

 

_Please don't tell me you're worried about our colours clashing. -SH_

 

_I'm not your brother. I just want to know what to expect. A suit? A hippie skirt? Your coat? -JW_

 

_I don't know myself. Haven't thought over it. But you can expect the coat. -SH_

 

_I assumed Mycroft would have put on a fashion show for you to choose from. -JW_

 

_Oh, he did. But nothing's left but the ashes of those abominations. -SH_

 

_Figuratively? -JW_

 

_Oh please, what kind of metaphor would that make? -SH_

 

_Wow. You never cease to surprise me, Sherlock. -JW_

 

_So, please tell me there'll be something under your coat tonight? -JW_

 

_I'm sure Mycroft's looking into it. In fact, here he is now. -SH_

 

_Tell him I said hello. -JW_

 

_Sure, I'll tell him to piss off. -SH_


	3. Chapter 3

The doorbell rang. Mycroft skipped across the hall to answer it. _Skipped_ without fail. 

"Good evening, Greg," Mycroft put on a fake composure (mustn't seem too eager, now) "Come on in." He bowed so low behind Greg letting him in, Sherlock was sure he was getting a spectacular view of his arse. 

"Got some crisps and beer for the match," Greg waved around the huge bag he had in hand. Mycroft frowned on the fatty snacks and beer -he was on a diet (again). And he didn't like the man he became when sports were on. Savage and passionate. But to hell with it, because Greg looked as excited as a five year old. 

Sherlock lay sprawled across the entirety of the sofa in her dress. The sofa wasn't meant to be merely sat on, after all. She didn't care her hair was becoming a mess or her dress was getting wrinkled. She was waiting for the clock to strike eight twenty eight so she could leap into the car, pick up John, and get the night over with. Time was moving especially slow. _Damn your relativity, Einstein.  _

"Good evening, Sherlock!" Greg came up behind the lounging girl and ruffled her hair. _What was I thinking ever considering this baboon to be a potential date..._

"Evening, George."

" _Greg._ " The boys' voices synchronised perfectly in irritation. 

"Right." Greg lifted Sherlock's legs and sat himself on the sofa. She lay them back down in his lap, not caring. 

"Sherlock, would you care to make some space for our guest?" Mycroft spoke through gritted teeth.

"Lestrade's comfortable enough, you mustn't worry so much."

"Must I remind you you have a dance to attend?"

"Eight twenty eight has not struck yet. I'd like to be, as one would call it, fashionably late."

"Oh Sherlock you shouldn't make the poor guy suffer by making him wait so long! You look amazing in this dress." Sherlock flashed a grin. She flashed it at Mycroft. Mycroft opted to take a huge breathe and exhale. 

He charged at Sherlock.

"Finally it's time!" Sherlock sprung out of the way, sending Mycroft crashing into the sofa. Greg didn't understand what was going on, but he laughed all the same. Sherlock grabbed her coat. 

"Farewell. You can expect me back early. You two have fun on your date!"

"We will!"

"It's not a-" Mycroft skidded to halt in his speech, looked at Greg and blinked. Greg shrugged.

"Why not?" 

Mycroft immediately switched on the television to try to distract them from his stupidly wide smile. 

 

***

 

_John, Come outside. I'm here. -SH_

 

_Wouldn't you like to come inside? -JW_

 

_To a place you're so desperate to leave? I don't think so. -SH_

 

_I was hoping I could show you off to Harry. "Thanks to you, I've found a hotter date to go with, bitch!" -JW_

 

_Date? -SH_

 

_Just in Harry's eyes. -JW_

 

_We can't be forgetting Sarah. And won't the both of them be there as well? -SH_

 

_Sarah is unforgettable. She's here, with Harry, as a matter of fact. And I've been exaggerating how upset I've been when I'm around them. So no, they're not going. -JW_

 

_Oh, bitch move, Watson. Alright, I'm coming to the door to receive my lady. -SH_

 

_Please do hurry, my knight in shining armour. -JW_

 

Sherlock got out of the car and straightened her raffled dress. She ran her fingers through her hair and rang the doorbell. 

"Come in, Sherlock!" He made his voice audible to all the corners of the house. He took her coat. Audible again, he preached, "Wow, you look-" His voice dropped. Sherlock was wearing a strapless midnight blue gown that reached her calfs, the top tight but skirt flowing away. Her slender physique was magnified to extents John would rather not have himself think. 

"Silly? I know. Mummy made it clear I couldn't break the dress code. I really don't understand why she needs to make everything so extravagant. We'd all be fine with a normal night with no dress code. And besides, Mycroft chose this dress for me, so of course it's-"

"Bless him..." John mumbled.

"I'm sorry?"

"Nothing. You, er, you look..." John couldn't find any adjective appropriate enough. "...Lovely. Yes, absolutely lovely."

"We don't have to start with false compliments. Besides, dresses are for cheesecakes." John would correct her to say it was all genuine, but then she'd accuse him of calling her a cheesecake. Case closed.

"Where is your sister?"

"She should've come out herself by now..."

"And here I am, Johnny." Harry was much, much taller than John, but appeared to wear equally hideous jumpers as her brother. This family ran on jumpers. "How could I miss your new date?" She smiled at Sherlock and shook her hand. It wasn't an amiable smile. "Please tell me this means the moping will end. I can rely on you, right?" 

Sherlock gave her a warm smile and nodded. "Absolutely, Harry." She planted a peck on John's cheek to sell it. 

Harry patted John on the back, something he seemed to hate, something Harry seemed to know. "Now, you two keep out of trouble and have fun, okay?" She was obviously trying to stretch the conversation.

"We shall. Anywhere far from the vicinity of John's ex and his sister sucking faces right in front of him would be deemed to be enjoyable, at least for John." Sherlock smiled back. John coughed to hide his giggle.

"We should really get going. We're already late."  

"Um, you two stay out of trouble? Goodbye..." The baffled sister closed the door behind them. "Shit, she's hot." They heard her through the door. And as lame as it seemed to be, John knew Sherlock deserved a high five.

 

***

 

Sherlock sat playing glitchy games on her phone for half an hour while John conversed with his friends in another corner. Sherlock showed absolutely no interest at all from the moment they'd arrived, so John had to resort to making small talk with others. He didn't know anyone too well, which is why he couldn't get past small talk. Sherlock merely had to stay for an hour to satisfy Mummy Holmes and Mycroft. She kept glancing at the time. 

Everyone was talking about the same thing; School's over, a whole new grade, the end of an era. They reminisced over trivial things as though they were meeting up at a forty year reunion. John didn't want to talk to anyone of them after a while. They'd meet after the break, for crying out loud. They didn't have to get so emotional. 

"What's your deal?"

"I'm sorry?" 

"Sherlock. Weren't you dating Sarah?" 

"About that... yeah... We broke up." John didn't make eye contact. "And Sherlock just came along so I didn't have to come alone. Nothing more." He felt the need to make it clear, even though it didn't make a difference. He'd repeated the same to anyone who'd asked.

"A good lot that's doing for you." John shrugged. "Listen, I've told you about her, haven't I? She's such a-"

"I'm sorry, Sally, but you don't know her like I do. She's a pretty decent person. In fact, you don't seem to know people in general, especially since you chose to come with Anderson." Sally pulled her head back. _Rude._ He didn't regret it.

"Sherlock spells trouble." She whipped out of his sight, and he didn't think she'd be "warning" him anymore. 

He was left alone with a drink in his hand. Everyone was past the warming up stage and most were now dancing. At a dance. Of course.

John glanced at Sherlock, still in the same position he'd left her; hunched over her phone. 

 

_Wow, Sally sure looked angry. But then again, that scorn is part of her face. -SH_

 

John looked at Sherlock across the room. He decided to text back instead.

 

_She's only like that when you're on her mind. -JW_

 

_Never thought I ruled her head all the time. -SH_

 

_I've spent twenty minutes, forty more I can bear. -SH_

 

_This isn't music, it's bloody noi-_

 

John pulled her phone from her hands. 

"Why don't you try enjoying yourself?"

"How am I supposed to do that?"

John turned to point out all the people lost in the music. The bad music, but it was bearable. 

"You could come dance with me." He held out his hand. Sherlock sighed.

"I could do with some stretching anyway."


	4. Chapter 4

They both were hot, sweaty and exhausted from dancing. But still energetic. Sherlock didn't want to admit it, but she could really go for another spin. Though they didn't see going back anytime likely. 

It was only eleven, and things had already slowed down. The DJ seemed to be quite the romantic, because for the past half hour all that was on were sickeningly romantic songs. The beats couldn't be danced to, the affectionate and poorly written lyrics couldn't be ignored, and the melody made Sherlock's ears bleed. The air had turned mushy somehow, a feeling of pink associated into every tangible thing present. Most of the their classmates came in couples, and were slow dancing. Anyone single was naturally selected to call it a night and leave for an after party. 

Sherlock and John decided to go outside when spotting Molly all over Jim was the last straw. Sherlock took a long, dramatic breath.

"I couldn't breathe with all that in the room." She settled down onto the steps.

"Who knew Molly Hooper would be so..."

"Horny?"

John burst into laughter. "Yeah, sure." 

They both looked around, blank. There was nothing outside to do. Sherlock would've reached for her cigarettes, but she knew it offended John.

"We would've had an after party to go to if I hadn't been so rude with Sally."

John had entered the guilt stage. He sat down right next to her, their shoulders touching.

"Would you really want to go to a party thrown by Sally? _Sally?_ "

"Half the class's there. The other half will be later."

"Sally and Anderson are going to have a row anytime now, and the party will be forced to a halt. So, half of the class will have wasted their night."

"How are you so sure?" John had it in his knowledge even the idea of him asking was utterly stupid, but if didn't, Sherlock wouldn't explain. 

Sherlock smirked, as if in pity. 

"Tom didn't wipe off Sally's lipstick that well from his neck. And even Anderson could notice that." 

"Even Anderson?"

"Especially Anderson. He's been stalking Sally's whereabouts as of late. He even read a flirty text exchange between the two."

"Did you look into Sally's phone too? Sure sounds like it."

"Of course I did. Without me, Anderson wouldn't have even had the tiniest bit of clue."

John sat up and tried to let it sink in.

"You helped Anderson?"

"I'm not monster. At least, I don't think so."

John faced to see Sherlock. This intelligent, svelte creature most certainly was not she proved for others to be.

"I can affirm that. You most definitely are not. Not at all."

Sherlock wasn't quite sure of how to react. This was the one time when someone had looked into her and still thought her to be...enchanting. 

John Watson right there was a rare specimen. He actually found joy in spending time with her. Moreover, he took initiative to understand her babbles. What a mind for the psychiatrists he'd prove to be.

Sherlock appreciated it. 

"Chemistry lab." She sprang up, and John almost toppled over. Recovering his balance, he waved her goodbye and continued sitting. The chemistry lab was Sherlock's sanctuary, and she didn't like it if anyone came by when she was busy experimenting. Made for too much stupid, therefore distraction in the room.

"What are you going to do here? Stare into the abyss?"

John took the cue and got up.

 

***

 

"Watson keep that sodium away from the sink!"

"Right. Which one's the sodium again?" Sherlock rushed and grabbed the clueless boy by his shoulders and shoved him aside. 

"What could possibly go wrong? We put salt in soup, for crying out loud." She was being uptight, not to mention she was treating him like a baby. His face was making his thoughts overtly apparent. 

"Soup contains sodium _chloride_.  This is just sodium. It's like you've never studied chemistry in your life, John."

"I've studied enough to pass my tests-"

"Barely."

"-And there really can't be much of a difference!"

Sherlock took beaker, filled it with water. She then took a piece of sodium with care and dropped it into the beaker. 

"Jesus fucking christ..."

She'd set fire to the water, and had she just not called him a git, he'd be dazed in his awe.

"Try _that_ in your soup and I shall like to know the survival rate."

"I'd like to feed that to Harry, if it wouldn't put up much of a show."

Sherlock let out a tiny laugh at that and moved back to the lab table she'd set her apparatus on.

"Whatch'ya working on?"

"Do you have an item, any item at all that is tiny enough to fit this test-tube?" She lay out her hand while fiddling with the tube. She'd been heating it over a bunsen burner.

"I, er, let me check..." John slid his hands in all his pockets, and found something relevant. He put it in her hand. He wondered why she didn't question him upon the presence of a singular gummy bear in his suit.

"Stand back."

Sherlock slid the candy down the tube and angled it away from herself. A huge fountain of flames ruptured from the tube like fireworks lighting up the whole room. John jumped and swore in his excitement and Sherlock grinned wider than she was used to. The chemistry lab, she believed, was the best place for a thrill. That, and putting the pieces together to make sense of situations. It gave her life. Enjoyment in an otherwise bleak world. And looking at John, she could confirm what she was doing was actually fun.

"So you do this all the time here? How could you not have invited me over before?"

"I've never denied you from accompanying me." To think of it, she never really did. John didn't know how to justify himself. 

"Can we blow up our siblings?"

"There's not a test-tube big enough." They giggled. 

Sherlock mixed and matched chemicals and pieces of metal for John for hours. 

 

***

 

It was dark, which meant John's house was asleep. Of course it was, it was past three am. Neither of them had realised the time, and when they did, they ran towards the car. John was impressed by Sherlock's ability to run in heels. Sarah couldn't even so much as stand in them. Sherlock walked her date of the night to the door, but he led her to the back of the house.

"Where we going?"

"My window. There's no way I'm going through the front door. I promised mum I'd be back at twelve, tops."

"'Tops'?"

John softly laughed, "Yes, 'tops'." He tried to the window, a bit too high for him to reach without struggle.

"You must be quite friendly with intruders. You know, leaving your window unlocked at night."

"Absolutely. I go by my street name 'Johnny Boy' here."

Sherlock burst into laughter, and John had to cover her mouth from waking the whole neighbourhood.

"What the hell is that street name?!"

"I'm not good at improv!" 

"Evidently." She grinned. He was still struggling with the window, so she pushed him aside and slid the window up with no effort for him.

"You're wearing high heels." 

"I kicked them off in the car. Accept the reality of your height."

"Never!"

The night was done. The semester had ended. It was time to accept the end of a great evening, though none of them wanted to. They faced each other, looking for words to stay, stretch the conversation.

"I had a great time."

"Me too. We had a ball."

"Goodnight, John."

"Night."

They leaned in for a little hug, and as they broke it, Sherlock brushed her lips against his cheek.

"Harry's not here."

"No, she's not." John looked down, flustered, but smiling.

"Goodnight."

"Yes, goodnight." John blinked. He thought about it, decided to ignore anything reasonable in his mind.

"John?"

He places his hands gently on her waist and leaned in slowly, allowing Sherlock to think about it. Her mind went blank. Entire rooms and walls of thought no longer existed in her mind for the moment. She put her arms around his shoulders and let their lips meet. He grabbed her closer and gave her another kiss in their embrace. They broke it off when they needed air. 

"It's late. I need to rush."

"Course, course."

 

***

 

Sherlock took off her heels and gently opened the main door. 

Sherlock tiptoed holding her breath across the hall to reach the stairs. As soon as she took her first step, the wooden floor creaked and the lights went on. Mycroft was standing by the light switch, arms folded and eyebrow raised. 

"Do you realise what the time is?"

"Last time I checked it was three o four."

"It's _late_.  Where were you? Certainly not at a party."

"The chemistry lab, brother." The chemistry lab sure sounded like a preposterous excuse of a place, but this was Sherlock. Mycroft believed her.

"With John?"

"Who else?"

Mycroft gave her a stern look. 

"Three am in the morning, I'm rather certain John wasn't engaged in chemistry experiments." 

Sherlock wasn't going to take this.

"At least he returned home, unlike a certain Gaston who's currently upstairs. In your room." 

Mycroft frowned.

"Go to your room. We'll talk about this tomorrow."

"Or I could just poison you," Sherlock muttered under her breath. 

 

***

 

Changed after half an hour of trying to peel off her dress, Sherlock lay wide awake in bed. She couldn't sleep, not at a night like this. Other days she'd try to think until exhaustion, but now she had somebody to bother.

 

_Did you get told off for being late too? -SH_

 

She got an instant reply.

 

_I was just going to text you. And yes, of course I did. I thought I'd successfully climbed in, but I crashed into the ground which brought mum and Harry to my room. Not my proudest moment. -JW_

 

Sherlock covered her mouth from giggling too loud.

 

_Do you regret tonight? I mean, you could've gone to a mind numbing party instead. More people. -SH_

 

He didn't reply for a while. _He's thinking. Of course he regrets it._ She almost drifted off to sleep when the phone buzzed again.

 

_Did I regret tonight? Oh yes Sherlock, I had a pretty shitty time. You're right, I could've been at some party with loud music and getting pissed on beer and maybe luckily enough some drugs? I could've made out with some random classmate I was probably never going to talk to again. The time I spent with you was nothing compared to that. Psh. Chemistry? I was faking it the whole time. My enjoyment, I mean. You ruined my night. -JW_

 

A wagon of bricks fell on Sherlock's chest, figuratively. This shouldn't have mattered so much. 

 

_You're a genius, you realised it was all in sarcasm right? -JW_

 

Sherlock rung him up.

 

"Hi-"

"You're a fucking idiot."

She disconnected.

 

_I've never had so much fun. The lab was really fun. -JW_

 

_I loved dancing with you too. Too bad we had to make a run for it when the slow dancing started hahaha -JW_

 

_To be honest, we could've been doing anything and I'd enjoy it. Even slow dancing. -JW_

 

_You'd want to slow dance? -SH_

 

_With you, of course. -JW_

 

Sherlock smiled at her phone. She would have never deduced how great such a social tripe such as a school dance would prove to be. She would have never had the chance to know him otherwise. 

 

_I'm glad I found you. Even though we both pissed each other off at first. -JW_

 

_Your jumpers piss me off more than you do, to be fair. -SH_

 

_Oi, I'm being sentimental here, don't hate on the jumpers. What if I started on about your dramatic coat? -JW_

 

_You love it. -SH_

 

_It's the reason why I hang out with you. -JW_

 

_Obviously. Goodnight, John. -SH_

 

_One last thing, I like you a lot, Sherlock. Don't forget me next semester. -JW_

 

Sherlock blushed into her pillow.

 

_Do you really expect to be forgotten wearing those jumpers? They're unforgettable, Watson. They've engraved themselves in the walls of my memory. Just like you have. -SH_


End file.
